Happiness
by HorcruxFinder
Summary: Victoire Weasley is only happy when she is with Teddy Lupin. Can she learn to be happy without him or will she take a chance and finally tell him how she feels? Oneshot.
1. Chapter 1

.:.:.:.:.

.~*~.H A P P I N E S S.~*~.

_Victoire's Point of View_

.:.:.:.:.

I hate family gatherings. Not because I hate family, although that's part of it at times. No, I hate family gatherings because every time, without fail, I get stuck on babysitting duty. Dominique and Louis always fly off to play Quidditch, leaving me the sole supervisor of the tiny little humans, most of whom aren't even old enough to own wands. Regardless, I outgrew these back-to-school gatherings at the Potter house about two years ago when Teddy graduated and conveniently stopped showing up in order to avoid the trauma of changing his appearance for hours on end to entertain the children who are quite obsessed with his unique abilities.

These little gatherings used to be bearable. Now, they're like some sick form of torture. I don't understand why Dad makes us come anymore. He knows that one afternoon over here is only going to result in me being miserable and Mum complaining for at least a day about British cooking. But, no! He insists on spending time with family. Let me tell you, he must really love his family because when both Mum and I are miserable…Well, let's just say we're not the easiest people to please on the best days. 'High-maintenance' is the word most often used.

I guess today isn't as bad as it could be though. Definitely not as horrible as last year when it was raining and we were all crammed into the house. No, at least this year we have the yard to stretch out in a bit. And the Potters do have a swimming pool which provides me with the perfect excuse to lie out in the sun and soak in a few rays before school starts tomorrow. I found out the hard way last year that McGonagall doesn't approve of tanning in a bikini by the Great Lake. Which is utter rubbish because how the hell else am I supposed to maintain the perfect sun-kissed skin that I've worked all summer to cultivate? She doesn't realize how hard it is to tan one-eighth veela skin. If she did, I'm sure she would re-consider her stance on Great-Lake-tanning. Maybe I'll discuss that with the Head Boy when we get back to school tomorrow—it couldn't hurt.

So, here I am taking advantage of what could possibly be my last day of sunlight for quite a while. The linen on the pool chairs is a bit scratchy, but it's better than lying on the concrete, I suppose. I have one knee raised, perfectly highlighting the body that I inherited from my mother, and can't help but feel a bit relaxed in my designer bikini, sunglasses, and sunhat. I'm not a fan of hats in general because it's almost a sin to hide my luxurious blonde hair underneath something so much less stunning, but it's not like there's anyone here to enjoy this image anyway. Even if they weren't related to me, I'm pretty sure all of these little twerps are still in the "girls-have-cooties" stage of their existence.

I hear some of the kids splashing around in the water, but I pay them no attention. My eyes are shut tight against the bright sunlight. If someone's drowning, I assume they'll be smart enough to inform me although I'm not quite sure what help I'd be. This suit's designer and I am pretty sure it's not actually supposed to come in contact with water.

I feel a presence on my right and hear the gentle _tap_ of water falling off of what I assume must be one of my many cousins. Reluctantly, I sigh and tilt my head slightly to the side. Rose is standing there, a towel wrapped tightly around her one-piece bathing suit with water falling freely out of her stringy red hair.

"Yes?" I ask, trying not to sound as annoyed as I feel.

"Um…" she starts, dragging the corner of the towel closer to her mouth and subconsciously placing it between her teeth where she begins gnawing on it. "I was wondering if I could talk to you," she mumbles around the material.

I sit up a little straighter, making room for her to sit on the end of the lounge chair, and remove my sunglasses. "Of course," I say, forcing a smile to my face as I fold them into my lap.

"Um…I was just wondering…"She starts and I withhold an eye roll. I don't dislike Rose—I really don't! But I do dislike questions and people who waste my time. Plus, I know where this is going because I had this exact same conversation with Albus about an hour ago only to have James inform him that my advice "doesn't apply to boys." Which is ironic considering the only advice I enjoy giving is advice about boys. Which is also ironic because I am completely incapable of giving myself any boy-advice at all.

"You're worried about Hogwarts," I state to try and speed up this process. She nods. "Don't be," I say simply, pulling my sunglasses back on and laying down once more. "You'll miss your parents for about a week. Then, you won't anymore. The classes are manageable once you get the hang of it. And plus, you've already got a built in network of friends since about half of the goddamn school is related to us. I went to Hogwarts without anyone, so trust me, Dear, you got off easy."

"You had Teddy," she points out. Just like her mum, that one. Always trying to prove me wrong.

"Right," I admit. "Teddy."

"I'm just worried about the Sorting," she continues. "James is going on about a dragon, but Mum said—"

"James is an idiot," I interrupt.

"And is Slytherin really as bad as they say?" I sigh before sitting back up and taking my glasses off in one fell swoop.

"Every house has their bad apples, babe. Take Gryffindor for example, which I'm assuming is where you want to go considering you have maniacal parents who have instilled that idea in you since the day you were born. There's a Gryffindor in my year who likes to invent spells that have a strange tendency of causing disaster. However, I dated a guy in Slytherin and he didn't have a forked tongue or horns anywhere visable so I think you're safe."

She looks at me for several seconds as if trying to determine whether I'm kidding or not before she finally just rolls her eyes and leaves without a word. I roll my eyes right back, purse my lips and lay back down on the lounge chair that is growing more and more uncomfortable.

"Why do you do that?" a voice asks from next to me. An all too familiar voice that makes my heart stop for the briefest of moments before it begins to race. I want to keep my eyes tightly closed in case I have somehow managed to fall asleep and am dreaming, but feel it would be rude if this really isn't a figment of my imagination. I slowly take my sunglasses off and open my eyes. Teddy is leaning over me, blocking the sun, and looking at me accusingly.

"Why do I do what?" I ask in a small voice, taking in the finer features of his face that I haven't seen in several weeks due to the fact that I've been trying my very hardest to avoid him.

"Why do you harass them like that?" he asks, taking a seat in the spot that Rose had just vacated. I sit up and pull my knees to my chest in order to make room for him. I just shrug, not having an excuse or the mental capacity to make one up. "Nice hat, by the way," he says, looking up at the offending object. I roll my eyes and yank it off of my head, bringing it down to sit in my lap where I just stare at it so that I don't have to stare at the man sitting in front of me.

Teddy sighs deeply after a few seconds and takes me by surprise as he leans over and raises my chin to force me to look at him. "You're doing that thing again," he states, staring into my eyes. His eyes are a deep purple today, contrasting violently with his customary turquoise hair. I like the bright blue of his real eyes better.

"What thing?" I ask.

"The thing where you don't talk to me," he accuses.

"I am not!" I say stubbornly.

"Are too!" he responds childishly, removing his hand from my chin but continuing to stare at me sadly. It's obvious that he wants to say more, but neither of us do.

In the past few months, we've reached a stalemate. It finally got to the point where I couldn't be with Teddy without wanting to tell him that I've been in love with him for years. So instead, I just don't talk to him at all. He is my psuedo-relative, after all, and I'm pretty sure that falls into the category of incest.

"What are you doing here anyway?" I ask, sitting Indian style and placing the hat over my lap. I'm suddenly very self-conscious about my lack of clothing and wish that I could put my sundress on without it being completely obvious that I feel uncomfortable. I mean, we're family, right? I shouldn't be uncomfortable with the thought of him seeing me in a bathing suit. If it's so wrong then I shouldn't have been exposing James, Albus, and all of the others to it either. "You normally don't show up to these things."

"I'm about to ship out for Auror training until Christmas. I just wanted to see Harry before I did and this seemed as good a time as any." The silence falls between us once again, my unsaid words ringing in my head. I want to tell him just how much it bothers me that he's training to be an Auror; I also want to tell him just how much it turns me on. "And I wanted to see you," he shrugs. "You haven't answered my owls."

"I've been busy," I say, shaking my head from side to side absently. "Very busy. I just—"

"Forgot?" he questions.

"I guess," I respond. We just continue staring at each other and I can see the anger and frustration working its way across his face. I can see just how badly he wants to tell me that I'm pissing him off and I need to stop acting like a spoiled brat. I can almost hear the words echoing from his lips—that's how obvious his emotions are. His jaw is clenched tightly together and I can tell he's fighting what he wants to say.

"Victoire," he chokes out finally and I just wait for the explosion. "What are you doing?" His eyes meet mine desperately, but I don't have an answer for him and I just shake my head. "You refuse to see me," he continues, his words hardly a whisper as he looks around to make sure no one is watching us. "You won't return my owls. I was at your house last week and you wouldn't even come downstairs! I don't know what I did. Do you hear me? I. Do. Not. Know. What. I. Did. It must have been pretty bad to result in such an extreme icing out but I am at an utter loss, V."

"You didn't do anything," I breathe, my words never completely forming in my mouth so that they come out as just a wisp of air. Teddy shakes his head and closes his eyes tightly. The truth is that I just can't see him. I can't talk to him. I can't be around him anymore because it's torture. The worst kind of torture that I have ever known. I didn't, however, realize that the _not_ talking to him was going to be just as torturous.

He runs his hands over his knotted forehead and then finally stands, his weight lifting from the chair and making me feel strangely empty. "Okay," he shrugs. "Well have a good final year at Hogwarts, then. I won't write." He gives me one last lingering gaze and then turns around. Ever fiber of my being is screaming at me to stop him—to tell him everything that has been bothering me. I stand, letting my ridiculous hat fall to the ground.

"Teddy, wait!" I cry. He turns to look at me with this hopeful gaze in his eye, but the courage that had riled me to action just seconds before abandons me there. I just stare at him hopelessly. I open my mouth, but no sound comes out and I just shrug instead.

He nods, as if he understands all of the words I had wished to say and looks over at me sadly. "I can't fix this unless you tell me what's wrong," he says, his voice husky with feeling. "Please, Victoire." I can feel my throat beginning to constrict, but I'm too paralyzed to be genuinely worried about tears falling.

"I know," I answer. "But I just—"

"Can't," he finishes stiffly. "You're not in trouble though, are you?" he asks desperately, taking a step towards me. "Physically, you're not in any danger, right? Victoire, you have absolutely no idea what you're doing to me. I lay awake at night thinking up all of these far-fetched scenarios of what could possibly force you to treat me like this. Scenarios ranging from blackmail to kidnapping and I just need to know that you're safe."

"Yeah," I sigh, the emotion behind his words taking me by surprise. "I'm f—" The word "fine" dies on my lips. I can't lie to Teddy. I may be able to avoid the truth, but I can't lie to him.

He nods. "Bye, V." I expect him to turn away immediately, but he doesn't. His eyes drop from mine, scanning the length of my body. He stares at me unabashed for several seconds before turning around and walking back into the house. As soon as he's out of eye sight, I grab my sundress and slip it over my head, once again very aware of my body and how much of it Teddy had just seen.

.:.:.:.:.

Typically by the time the entire Weasley family has fixed themselves a plate of food and sat down at the overly large picnic table set up in the yard, the food has grown cold. Today, however, I don't care about the lukewarm potatoes. I wouldn't be eating them even if they were fresh off the stove. It's taking all I have just to keep my meager breakfast down. I feel sick to my stomach.

Of course by some weird twist of fate, Teddy and I end up sitting right across from each other. Once we noticed this, we both tried to get up at the same time but the table was already almost full and even sitting across from Teddy is better than sitting next my Mum when she gets on a tangent about the thickness of British cooking. So we sit there, not two feet between us, not talking and not eating. I feel him staring at me but try my hardest to keep my eyes glued to my plate. At first I push the food absently around in order to make it look like I'm actually eating, but then I realize that my hands are beginning to shake and hastily remove them from view.

Uncle Harry, who is sitting on Teddy's left, tries to engage him in conversation every so often and Teddy answers his questions but no one tries to talk to me and I remain silent. Whenever I have to force myself to look up, I look at Rose who is sitting to Teddy's right. She's already asked him to make one of his famous faces, but he graciously turned her down and she's been quiet ever since.

As the meal goes on, it gets more and more unbearable and I feel my heart begin to break. I can't live like this. I can't. I feel my breathing become labored and I look up to see if anyone's noticed. Teddy is talking to Harry, but Rose is staring at me in worry. A single tear falls down my cheek and she opens her mouth to say something, but I shake my head in her direction desperately.

"Excuse me," I choke out, trying to keep my face out of view as I stand up from the table. "I don't feel well." Dozens of sets of eyes watch me as I hastily walk into the Potter's house, but no one follows me. I lock myself in an upstairs bathroom, cast a _Muffliato_ spell on the door, and cry.

.:.:.:.:.

The first person to check on me is my mother. "Victoire, are you not feeling well? Ez it ze food? I thought ze lamb was a little questionable."

"Um…I'm fine, Mum," I respond, trying to come up with a better excuse as to why I have locked myself in a bathroom. "I'll come out in a minute."

Then Dominique and Louis arrive about an hour after that.

"Victoire, are you ever coming out of there?" My sister asks, knocking on the door loudly. "Some of us would actually like to get home before midnight."

"Just go home without me!" I reply stiffly.

"You really think Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry are going to let you crash in their bathroom all night?" Louis asks angrily. "Just come out so we can go home. You don't have to tell us what the hell's wrong. Did Uncle George sneak some Canary Creams into the custard again? He swore he didn't, but you never know. Fred might have. It's a really easy counterjinx!"

"I'm fine!" I nearly yell. "Just leave me alone."

A couple of minutes later, my mum returns. "Victoire, come out zis instant! I will not tell you again!"

"Leave. Me. Alone," I snap.

"Fine," she snaps right back. "Apparate yourself home then." And then there's silence. I look at the clock on the wall and notice that it's getting late, but I'm still not ready to open the door and face the real world. In this little bathroom, I feel safe. I would Apparate home and feel safe in my own bathroom, but I'm still not that good at Apparation and with the day I'm having, something important would probably end up splinched. I'm far too vain to let that happen.

Aunt Ginny eventually comes up and offers to make me some tea, but I refuse graciously. She tells me to call her if I need anything and then leaves. I hear voices from downstairs but they continue to get fainter and fainter until I'm almost positive that all of the guests have left except maybe Ron and his clan. I'm not entirely positive that they don't live here too.

The house has just begun to settle down when I hear a soft knock at the door. "Victoire?" a voice asks. I immediately recognize it as Rose. I respond with a mix between a grunt and a sigh. "Can I come in?" I stare up at the doorknob from my place on the floor and after a few seconds, I slowly reach up and unlock it. I don't know why, but suddenly I don't want to be alone.

The door opens slowly. Rose spots me on the floor, my eyes red-rimmed and puffy, but she doesn't say anything. She opens the door wide enough to squeeze through and then shuts and locks it again behind her. She stands there looking down at me for several seconds before taking a seat across from me, leaning against the bathtub. I refuse to meet her gaze, but instead stare at the wall above her head.

"You looked sad at dinner," she shrugs. I nod. "Teddy looked sad at dinner too," she continues. I shrug. She rolls her eyes. "I'm not a little kid, you know. I'm smart. And I see things. I see the way you look at Teddy. It's the same way Hugo looks at our babysitter." I look at her disdainfully and she just shrugs as if to say "What? It's true!" "It's also the same way my mum looks at my dad. You love him."

"I do not," I snap. Rose sighs.

"Yes, you do," she says slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "My parents talk about it with Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry sometimes. They say you're going to marry him one day." I look over at her in disbelief, my mouth opening and closing as I try to think of a witty retort.

"You're pretty," she interjects suddenly.

"Um, thank you?"

She shakes her head as she stares at the ceiling. "It wasn't a compliment. You're pretty and you know it. I'm not saying that's all there is to you, but it's all you show people. The only time I can find an adjective to describe you that isn't 'pretty,' you're with Teddy. When you're with him you become this vibrant, amicable, still stubborn but less vicious about it, person. You become my cousin and not just this bitch that shows up on holidays acting like the worst thing she's ever had to do was spend a few hours with her family."

Her words paralyze me and as I begin to understand their meaning, I feel the tears begin to surface once more because I realize that everything she's saying is true. 'Bitch' is the perfect word to describe me.

"I'm not an expert on love," Rose continues, staring down at her nails as she begins to chip off her fingernail polish. "But I do understand that you're getting on a train tomorrow and you're not going to see Teddy for about four months. I understand that he's mad at you right now and if you let him go, there's no guarantee that you're ever going to get him back. I just think that you'd be stupid to not tell him how you feel since the worst thing that can happen is that you end up right back where you are now—not speaking to him and crying about it in a bathroom taking advice from an eleven year old." She looks up at me then and I fall apart. The tears I had been trying to hold back spill over and she just sits there watching me cry. She doesn't try to comfort me, she just waits for me to stop.

As the tears flow down my face, I make up my mind. Rose is right. I can't live like this. This ends tonight. The tears subside and I wipe my face on a towel hanging on a drawer behind my head.

I stand up and Rose stands up with me. "I need to go talk to Teddy," I say. Rose nods as if she knew I was going to say that all along. She pushes past me and opens the door to let herself out. The door's almost shut behind her when she peeks her head back in.

"Oh and Victoire?"

"Yes?" I ask.

"While being pretty shouldn't be your defining characteristic, it doesn't hurt. You should probably fix that," she says, waving her hands around my face. I crinkle my eyebrows in confusion and then turn to look at myself in the mirror. My mascara is smeared all across my face and my hair looks like a niffler has been digging through it. My cheeks are stained red from the sun and my eyes and nose match them due to the excessive amount of crying I have done today.

"Good luck," Rose says and then shuts the door behind her, enveloping me in silence once more. My strength and my courage continue to build as I use magic to restore my appearance into someone Teddy might actually recognize. Just the thought of his name makes my stomach flip nearly out of my throat as I think about what I am about to do. I refuse to talk myself out of it, however, and as soon as I look presentable, I Apparate to Diagon Alley.

The air isn't cold precisely, but I immediately start shivering from its touch and chill bumps arise on my arms. I stare warily at the door to Teddy's flat, but can't force myself to take the necessary steps to get close enough to knock on the door. It takes several minutes of walking back and forth before I can climb his steps and I'm nearly convulsing with nerves by the time I force my hand to raise and I knock determinedly on the door. The sound echoes down the deserted street and I take a deep breath. Surely that was the worst part.

Oh, who am I kidding!

I hear the locks turning on the other side of the door and almost Disapparate on the spot. What am I doing here? The door opens slowly. Teddy can't keep the surprise off of his face when he sees me and it gives me a bit of confidence that maybe he actually wants me to be here. I open my mouth to say something (what, I don't know) but no words make it out.

"Come in," he sighs, pushing the door open further. Although my legs feel like jelly, I sidle past him and quickly take a seat on his sofa before I embarrass myself. He shuts and locks the door behind me before walking over to stand across from me, casting my body into a shadow. "What are you doing here?" he asks, not unkindly.

I shrug helplessly. "I need to talk to you," I say, my voice several octaves higher than usual.

"Okay," he says simply and moves to take a seat next to me.

"You're going to have to give me a minute though," I add. He pauses before sitting and stares down at me. I'm overly aware of the fact that I'm shaking uncontrollably and I think I'm going to die my heart is racing so fast, but I don't know how to stop it.

"Victoire, you're shaking," he says kindly, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of me instead and taking my hands in his. The shock of his touch startles me and I pull away instinctively.

He sighs in frustration. "Are you cold?"

"A little," I admit. He nods and excuses himself from the room. With him not standing in front of me, my heart begins to slow and I try to figure out how to say what I came here to say, but my brain can't think that far ahead right now. I think it's taking everything it has to keep me from fainting.

He returns a little later with a Tutshill Tornadoes sweatshirt and I slip it over my head just to have something to do. He takes a seat on the couch next to me and we sit in silence.

"Do you want some tea?" he asks a couple of minutes later. I shake my head. Another minute passes before he speaks again. "Please can I make you some tea? I need to do something."

I turn to look at him and he's staring right back with this worried expression on his face that breaks through all of my resolve. The walls around my heart crumble down and although I'm scared to death, I know that if I don't do this now, I never will. And the thought of never saying what I want to say is even more terrifying than actually saying it.

"I love you," I say solidly, my eyes never wavering from his. It takes him a second to comprehend my words, but then his eyes slowly start to widen. I shut my eyes tightly to avoid seeing what he's thinking and then just start rambling—anything that comes into my head, I say it.

"I don't know when this happened, I don't know why this happened, but I know that it happened and I can't make it stop. I've tried—I've tried really hard, Teddy. And I know I've been a bitch lately and I'm sorry, but I couldn't respond to your letters as just a friend and admit that that was all we were ever going to be. I couldn't watch you fixing cabinets with my father and have it shoved in my face that we're just friends." I open my eyes then and look at him. His face is still morphed into an expression of shock and it is thoroughly unreadable to me. "I love you," I shrug. "And I know I'm not supposed to, but I don't know how to make it stop. And I can't live like this anymore. I can't live with you not knowing. So, there. I said it."

He stares at me hard for several seconds, his mouth still agape, as if trying to determine whether I'm through talking. My eyes are wet from tears, but they are no longer falling freely. _That_ was the worst of it, surely.

Teddy suddenly smiles at me and my body relaxes a little bit. He gives a small chuckle and leans back onto the couch, tearing his gaze away from me and covering his eyes with his hand. "I thought you fucking hated me," he says. "I guess I misread those signs, huh?"

"Teddy?" I ask questioningly. I need a response now or I really am going to faint my heart is beating so fast. He sits up suddenly and turns his body so that he is facing me. He gently takes my hands in his once more and stares deeply into my eyes.

"I have something to say to you too," he says. "But you have to promise not to interrupt me because I've been rehearsing this speech in my head for a very long time and I want to get it right." I just nod. He nods in reply and immediately stands and starts pacing.

"I remember the day you were born. I told someone that once—Hermione, I think—and she told me that that wasn't possible. That I was only two and that was too young to remember anything. But I remember the day you were born. I don't know if it's because of magic or if I just have a super good memory, but I remember it. I remember looking over at you and just _knowing_ that we were going to have a life together! I remember Harry and your Dad joking that we were going to get married one day. I remember it all.

"And I'll admit that age two is way too young to understand love, much less feel it, but I felt something that day. And at age five it wasn't so much that I loved you, but that you didn't completely suck to be with. Then I started Hogwarts, and what you think is love at eleven is really just lust, but by age thirteen I knew. I knew that what I felt for you was more than friendship and I knew that it wasn't going away.

"So yes, Victoire Weasley, I love you. I love you so much." The tension in my body evaporates instantly, leaving me feeling numb. I open my mouth to say something (once again, I have no idea what) but he holds up his hand to silence me. "I'm not done. If we're talking about this, we're talking about it all. I know I started it—the whole dating other people thing, but you have no idea how crazy you made me. V, every time I saw you with some other guy, I thought I was going to die. It was like you were stabbing me in the heart and I know you must have felt the same way but what I'm telling you now is that I will never make you feel that way again."

A comfortable silence falls between us as he takes a seat next to me once more. I'm still reeling from everything that he said. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine a reaction like that. At best, I thought that maybe he would think about loving me. I never thought that he'd already done plenty of thinking. "Teddy," I sigh, not really knowing what else to say.

He nods his head, once again hearing my unsaid words in a way only he can. "I'm going to kiss you now," he says determinedly. I barely register his words before his lips are on mine for the first time in our lives. And as he pulls me to him, I can't imagine anything more perfect or more right.

There is still a lot unsaid between us, like how we're going to tell my massive family about this or what we're going to do for the next four months without each other. But Teddy is what happiness feels like and today he has made me the happiest person in the world.

.:.:.:.:.:.

_A/N: __Thanks to AnotherHPF for helping me get this posted. Now t__ime for some bribery: If I get enough reviews, I'll release this story from Teddy's point of view :)_

_Review, please!_


	2. Chapter 2

Note: I was originally planning on posting this as a separate story, but I've been trying to post it for three days and fanfiction won't let me for some reason. Instead of waiting for that issue to be sorted out, I'm just adding it as a separate chapter. Sorry for the confusion!

.:.:.:.:.

.~*~. M A D N E S S .~*~.

_Teddy's Point of View_

.:.:.:.:.

Victoire Weasley is driving me mad.

Sitting at the foot of my unmade bed, I stare in silence at the snitch-shaped clock hanging on my wall. The seconds slowly continue ticking by, but I'm no closer to making a decision about whether to go to Harry's party than I was half an hour ago. On the one hand, I really do need to talk to Harry and Ron before I leave for Auror training in Munich next week. On the other, I really do _not_ need to see Victoire.

Sure, I might _want_ to see her. Sure, I might be driving myself into insanity by _not_ seeing her. But I really do not _need_ to see Victoire Weasley right now.

The clock ticks off another long minute. I let out a groan of frustration and collapse onto my bed. The ceiling is much more interesting than that damn clock anyway.

I just don't understand Victoire sometimes! She has this uncanny ability to drive me absolutely mad and yet I can't say that I completely hate it. Or at least most of the time I don't hate it.

Most of the time my qualms with her center around the fact that she has this superiority complex that can't be sated by anything that I've ever tried. She gets that from her mother—a fact that Bill reiterates to me nearly every time I come to visit. But little quirks like that don't leave me sitting alone in my dark room trying to figure out whether it's safe to show my face at one of her family gatherings.

I really don't know what I did to piss her off. Normally, I have some tiny inkling of an idea but this time I legitimately have no clue. She's been distant with me all summer. Not exactly rude, but not Victoire either. It's like we were never best friends! She's mad at me. I can always tell when something's bothering her and something is definitely bothering her.

The thing is that no matter how angry she's been at me, she's always been willing to talk about it. That's one thing that Victoire loves: talking. And talking about her feelings is an added bonus. Another thing about Victoire: she's always right. No exceptions. You learn that after a while. So, the fact that she is unwilling to even talk about what's bothering her is scaring me a little bit.

I either fucked up real badly or this has to do with something beyond my control.

I sit and glance at the clock once more. To hell with it! I stand up and Apparate to the Potters' before I can change my mind. I don't bother ringing the doorbell but walk right in. Ginny and George greet me almost as soon as I'm through the door and George hands me a firewhiskey almost before I can say hello.

"Harry's in the kitchen with Ron," Ginny says, looking down at the firewhiskey disdainfully. I might be nineteen, but I still don't think I'm allowed to drink in front of her. I remove the offending object from sight and stand with it awkwardly behind my back.

"Thanks," I say. "I need to talk to him about some Auror stuff but I'll come back and see you in a bit." She nods and then turns to scold George for giving me alcohol, but I'm already gone.

I push through the swinging door into the kitchen and am pleased to find only Harry and Ron there, sitting across from each other at the table and looking over what appears to be a floor plan. Ron's been trying to remodel his house for ages; he never seems to get very far.

They look up at my arrival and a wide grin spreads across Harry's face. "I didn't think you were going to make it!" he says, standing up. I walk over and give him a hug.

"Ginny didn't give you that, did she?" Ron asks in disbelief, staring hard at the firewhiskey in my hand as Harry and I pull apart.

"Nah, George did," I reply, hopping onto the counter so that I'm facing the two men. Harry takes a seat once more, but continues to stare at me strangely.

"What?" I chuckle. "You're looking at me like I've suddenly grown two heads."

"Just surprised you're here is all," he shrugs, a smirk appearing on his face.

"What? We too good for you now that you're a full-fledged Auror?" Ron jokes.

I laugh and pop the top off of my firewhiskey. "You are Ron Weasley and Harry Potter—you could never be too good for me." I take a long swig of firewhiskey before continuing. "Victoire, however, is a different story."

"Ah!" Ron exclaims knowingly. "Still not over that, are you?"

"I think it's a pretty safe bet that he's not getting over this one any time soon," Harry chuckles. I just roll my eyes and let them have their fun. Harry's always been more of a friend than a father-figure and I don't keep secrets from him. Granted, I'm pretty sure he guessed my feelings for Victoire long before I told him. And when you tell Harry your secrets, you tell them to Ron too. That's just how it works. Of course, the art of secret-keepng gets very complicated in this family.

"How long has it been now?" Ron asks, looking over to Harry. "Nearly a decade, right? Hell, it only took me seven years to tell Hermione how I felt. Never thought I'd meet someone even more pathetic than me." He turns to me with a joking smile.

"Cheers," I joke. "And it has not been a decade," I say even though in all honesty it probably has.

"No, it almost has," Harry responds, scratching his head as he tries to remember something I'm sure I don't want him saying out loud. I take another swig of firewhiskey. "The first time I got you talking about Victoire was right after we'd had 'The Talk'—"

"Oh Merlin," I groan. That is one memory I don't want to remember.

"I remember because I was already feeling so awkward that I figured why not," he shrugs. "So I just asked you if you liked her because I was already curious. I didn't actually think you'd say yes!"

"Good to know," I say as the two men start laughing.

As the laughter settles down, a thought seems to occur to Ron. "You know, I'm going to have to have that talk with Hugo soon. He's—what?—nine now? Merlin, I'm getting old! I think I'll just have Hermione do it though. I mean, she's better at that stuff than I am. And I have really inappropriate reactions to stress."

"It's easier the second time around," Harry encourages.

"Good thing I only have one son then," Ron replies.

"Actually, that was a lie," Harry says, stopping as he remembers something else. "Albus's was easy. He just sat there, refused to make eye contact, and then nodded when I was done talking. James, however, insisted on asking questions. To this day, I have no clue if he was honestly curious or if he was just trying to make me feel uncomfortable."

"Probably the latter," I provide.

"I agree with Lupin on this one," Ron smiles. "But what did you expect, naming the boy James Sirius. You never stood a chance with that one."

"Can we go back to talking about me for a second?" I interrupt. They both just look over, waiting for me to say something. "Bill hasn't said anything, has he?"

"You think I'm going to talk to my brother about the probability of his daughter hooking up with a nineteen year old Auror with turquoise hair?" Ron laughs.

"He hasn't mentioned anything to me," Harry says kindly. "Sorry, mate. You're just going to have to figure this one out on your own."

"Damn it," I sigh, draining the last of my firewhiskey.

"She's out back with the kids," Harry adds.

"Great," I grimace. "So she's already pissed off at the world."

"Good luck," Ron laughs. I just give them a slight wave and head into the back yard.

I stand in the entryway for a few seconds, trying to get my bearings as my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. James, Fred, Albus, Lily, and Hugo are splashing around in the pool and in the distance, several people are visible high up in the air, a quaffle being tossed between them. I sigh and step fully onto the patio.

It takes me a second to locate Victoire. She's sitting on a lounge chair with her back to me and although I usually know where she is practically by instinct, I didn't immediately recognize her due to the very large sunhat covering her long, blonde hair. I take a step towards her and it's only as her body comes into view that I notice two things: first, Rose is sitting at her feet; and second, Victoire's wearing a bikini.

I curse silently to myself. Really? I can barely think straight when she's wearing all of her clothes. This is going to be nearly impossible.

Although I can't hear what Victoire is saying, I imagine it's not completely polite judging by the look on Rose's face. I smile slightly to myself as I stand back, waiting on the two to finish their conversation. Victoire has about as much patience with her family as I have with people constantly asking me to morph my appearance. Although it's not her most endearing quality, normally I can calm her down a bit. Of course, that only applies when she'll actually let me speak to her.

I see Rose roll her eyes and walk off with a huff. She throws her towel to the side and does a cannonball into the water, annoying Albus. When she surfaces, she looks much happier. I take one last deep breath to prepare myself and walk up to Rose who is already lying back down with her eyes closed once more.

"Why do you do that?" I ask, looking down at her. It takes all of the self control I have to keep my eyes on her face. Although I'm not usually one to degrade women by ogling their bodies, she _is_ in a bikini and this honestly isn't my fault. She takes her sunglasses off slowly and stares up at me.

"Why do I do what?" she asks, looking only mildly surprised to see me.

"Why do you harass the kids like that?" I clarify. I begin to feel uncomfortable making her look up at me, so I take a seat at the end of the lounge chair. She sits and pulls her knees up to cover her chest—something for which I'm very grateful. "Nice hat, by the way." I say before I can stop myself. Her eyes immediately look up as if trying to see the hat and then she yanks it off, freeing her long blonde hair to wave in the wind.

With the hat off, it becomes even more obvious that she's avoiding my eyes. I sigh deeply in annoyance, at a complete loss as to what to do. If she doesn't want to speak to me, I can't make her. It's killing me though because she's leaving tomorrow and I don't want to leave us like this. I can't wait until Christmas to know what's wrong.

Against my better judgment, I reach over and physically lift her head so that she's forced to look into my eyes. Even then it takes her a second before she's willing to actually look at me. The shock of her eyes meeting mine startles me into silence for several seconds. Her blue eyes, normally so full of life are hiding a sadness that I can't explain. It's almost like she's pleading with me—but what she's trying to say, I have no idea.

"You're doing that thing again," I finally choke out, my voice breaking a little.

"What thing?" she asks softly.

"The thing where you refuse to talk to me."

"I am not!"

"You are too!" I insist, releasing her chin only to ball my hand into a fist by my side. Even though my hand is no longer forcing her, she continues to stare at me for several seconds until my gaze becomes too much and she looks away.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asks, repositioning herself so that she's sitting with her legs crossed as far away from me as physically possible. "You normally don't show up to these things." Although that statement isn't entirely inaccurate, I resent her for saying it. The only year I legitimately missed was last year. I came all of the other times (even though I complained about it to her mercilessly) just because I knew she was going to be forced to go also.

"I'm about to ship out for Auror training until Christmas," I say stiffly. She would have known that if she'd bothered to talk to me at all over the past month. It's been hard not talking to her. I'm used to telling her everything and without her there I just feel lost. "I wanted to see Harry before I left and this seemed as good a time as any." I debate whether to add what I want to say next, but figure what the hell. This situation couldn't possibly get any worse. "And I wanted to see you. You haven't returned my owls."

"I've been busy," she shrugs, looking everywhere except at me. I find it ironic that she can't look at me and yet I'm finding it completely impossible to take my eyes off of her. "I guess I just—"

"Forgot?" I interject. "Really?"

"I guess so," she says. My blood begins to boil. I'm not one to have a short temper, especially at Victoire, but I want more than anything to just start yelling at her. She's being a bitch—even more so than usual. I'm not used to her bitchiness being directed at me and I don't like it. I have to literally bite my tongue to keep from saying something I'll regret. She looks up at me sadly and that's when I break because she's giving me that same look that she gave me earlier. Like she's pleading with me. Like this is all my fault.

"Victoire," I choke, keeping my voice as low as I can so that no one overhears us. The last thing I need is for one of the kids to go tell Bill that I've been yelling at his daughter. "What are you doing?" I ask simply. She quickly averts her gaze once more and that at least tells me that she's aware of what she's doing. "You refuse to see me," I clarify, moving my head to the side so that I'm directly in her line of vision. She looks over at me in aggravation. "You won't return my owls. I was at your house last week and you wouldn't even come downstairs! I don't know what I did to make you this upset. Do you hear me, Victoire? I have no clue what I did."

"You didn't do anything," she says immediately, but she says nothing more. I groan and close my eyes tightly, partly to distract myself from looking at her and partly to allow myself some time to think. She's obviously not going to tell me what's bothering her and if she wants me to go, then I'm going to give that to her.

"Okay," I say standing. She looks over at me in shock. "Have a good final year at Hogwarts, then. I won't write." I look at her once more, silently begging her to stop me, but she doesn't open her mouth so I turn away from her.

I've almost reached the door when she stops me. "Wait!" she cries. I pause before turning, not completely sure I want to hear what she has to say. I look at her in anticipation. Her mouth is open to say something, but she doesn't get the words out and just shrugs helplessly.

"Damn it, Victoire," I murmur. "I can't fix this unless you tell me what's wrong. Please!"

"I can't," she chokes out, her face betraying her emotions. It's then that I realize I got it wrong before. She's not looking at me in anger. She looks more upset than I've ever seen her and it breaks my heart that she won't let me in to help her. What could possibly be causing her this much pain? And if it isn't me, then why is she shutting me out?

"You're not in some kind of trouble are you?" I ask, feeling ridiculous for even suggesting it. "Physically, you're fine? V, you have absolutely no idea what you're doing to me. I just need to know that you're safe."

"Yeah," she shrugs. "I'm…" her voice trails off, and I come to the realization that that's all I'm going to get out of her right now.

"Bye, V." I'm about to turn around when I stop myself. If she's going to be a bitch, then I'm going to assume that I have permission to be an ass. I allow my eyes to drift from her face and take in her bronzed body. She is so beautiful. I turn around, saving that image of her in my mind. Just in case she never lets me back into her life, at least I will have that.

**.:.:.:.:.**

Ginny eventually calls the whole Weasley-Potter clan outside to eat, but honestly I'm not hungry. I would have left about an hour ago if it wouldn't have been considered incredibly rude. Ginny hates cooking and if I skipped a meal of her making, I probably would have had to hear about it for weeks. Plus, Harry would have skinned me alive.

"So, how'd it go?" Harry asks quietly, inching himself into line behind me as we wait to serve ourselves. I just shake my head. "Well, I was talking to Bill and he said she's been off for weeks. Don't worry, I didn't say anything about you! Other than that, no one seems to have an explanation."

"I might try talking to Dom about it later," I shrug. "But I'm honestly not sure what good it'll do. She doesn't want to talk to me; she's made that perfectly clear."

"I'm just not so sure this has to do with you, Teddy," Harry says and that surprisingly makes me feel a little bit better.

"Maybe it doesn't," I agree. "But just the fact that it's happening means that something is really wrong with our relationship. We've always told each other everything!"

"I don't know, kid. It's been a while since I had to deal with relationship trouble." I roll my eyes and begin filling my plate with food as we reach the serving table. I scan the long picnic table for an empty seat and sit down away from all of the little children. It's only once I'm seated that I notice Victoire is sitting right across from me. I move to stand up, but Harry, who was passing behind me at that exact moment, pushes me back down and takes the seat next to me. To add insult to injury, Rose takes the seat on my other side and immediately begins asking me to make faces.

"Not right now," I say after several seconds of listening to her requests. "Maybe later, Rose." The meal lasts longer than any Sorting ceremony ever did at Hogwarts. Rather than try to force Victoire to talk to me, I decide to treat her like she's treating me and just pretend like she's not there. I honestly am not doing it be rude—I can' sit here and not try to have a conversation with her. And since she obviously doesn't want to have a conversation with me, this is the only choice I have.

"Excuse me," she suddenly says, jumping up from the table. "I don't feel well." She rushes into the house and I stand to follow her instinctively, but Harry stops me once more.

"I don't know what's wrong with her, Ted, but I don't think following her is going to help right now." I sigh and sit back down. He's right—he's always right—but that doesn't change the fact that being out here while she's in there hurting is killing me.

People slowly begin finishing their meals and I help Harry clean up a bit before we both go back into the house with the rest of the adults. I don't see Victoire anywhere and no one makes any mention of her, so I just sit in silence as the conversation turns to happenings at the Ministry and the outcome of this year's Quidditch World Cup. Hours pass and slowly the house begins emptying, but I still don't leave. I hear Fleur and Bill arguing about what to do with Victoire who has apparently locked herself in an upstairs bathroom, but don't offer my own opinion on the subject.

Harry comes over and takes a seat on the couch next to me. "Teddy, go home," he says softly. I look over at him sadly.

"She's driving me mad," I say. Harry nods.

"I know. And you're letting her. Go home, Teddy. I'll floo over if I find out anything, but you're doing no good sitting on this couch."

"Thanks," I sigh, standing up. He gives me one last weary smile before I Apparate into my flat which is just as dark and unwelcoming as it was when I left.

Just to have something to do, I change into some pajamas but that doesn't distract me from thoughts of Victoire at all. When I shared a flat in muggle London last year, my muggle-born roommate had a television. While normally I'm not a fan of muggle technology, I could really use a television right now but they don't work in Diagon Alley and I have nothing to distract me from thinking about Victoire.

I just don't understand her! Not that I ever have, but now I _really_ don't understand her. It's hard to admit to myself that maybe this whole ordeal isn't my fault. Maybe it's hers. How can we go from being best friends one minute to not speaking the next? It just doesn't make logical sense.

I spend nearly an hour sitting in silence before my fireplace unexpectedly roars to life. I jump in fright. You'd think I'd be used to this sort of stuff by now, but flames suddenly erupting to life in my dark living room are scary no matter how many times it's happened before.

Harry's face appears in the fire a few seconds later and I kneel down on the hearth to see him better. "Harry?"

"Rose says that Victoire's heading your way. Just a warning."

"She's what? How does Rose know that?"

"No clue. I'm just telling you what I know." A knock suddenly reverberates throughout my small flat and my eyes widen in shock. "Harry, she's here! What do I do?"

"Go answer the door!" he demands and then disappears with a _pop_. I lift myself off of the rug and trudge to the front door, scared of what I'm going to face on the other side. I take a deep breath and pull the door open.

Although Harry warned me, I still wasn't prepared to see Victoire standing there. Her long blonde hair is blowing in the evening wind and even though the temperature has dropped drastically since this afternoon, she's still only wearing a white sundress over her bathing suit. The straps are still visible, tied behind her neck. None of that is as shocking to me, however, as the fact that she is standing there looking at me—really looking at me—for the first time all summer. She opens her mouth several times and I just wait patiently for her to say something. Once it becomes obvious that she isn't going to, I take a step back and open the door widely. "Come in," I sigh.

She slides past me without hesitation and walks straight towards my living room and takes a seat on the couch that used to belong to her parents. I shut and lock the door before approaching her. "What are you doing here?" I ask, emotionless. I'm not mad she's here, but I'm not exactly thrilled either. What is she going to tell me now that she couldn't earlier? This is just going to end in frustration, I can already feel it.

"I need to talk to you," she says quietly.

"Okay," I say, moving to sit down next to her. I'm just about to sit when she stops me.

"Not yet though. I need a minute." So I stand there looking down at her for several seconds, trying to read the emotions on her face. It's only as my eyes roam down her body that I realize she's shaking.

"Victoire, you're shaking," I point out needlessly, but something about seeing her like this takes away the nervousness I was feeling just a few seconds prior. Whatever she has to say, she's still my Victoire. I sit down on the coffee table opposite of her and reach for her hands. To my surprise, she yanks them away and looks up at me, startled. I sigh in frustration. What has happened to her? She never seemed to mind physical contact before.

"Are you cold?" I ask, knowing that she must be. I don't even wait for an answer before standing up.

"A little," she responds. I'm already out of the room. Once out of her presence, I'm able to think properly. I have no clue what is going on, but I'm not letting Victoire leave until she clarifies what the hell it is! She can't leave me like this while she's off at Hogwarts. I reach into my closet and grab the first sweatshirt I see.

I throw it to her as I reenter the room and I take a seat next to her as she shrugs into it. We sit in silence and I look over at her casually. My sweatshirt falls down nearly as far as her dress and there's just something about seeing her in my clothes that drives me crazy.

"Do you want some tea?" I ask suddenly. She shakes her head and I silently groan. I need to do something besides sit here thinking about what I shouldn't be thinking about—especially now! "Please can I make you some tea? I need to do something."

She looks over at me in annoyance and it's the first time I've seen the real Victoire shine through this confusing exterior all day. I can't help the small smile that rises to my lips. The look of annoyance disappears from her face suddenly and then she's just staring at me blankly. My smile disappears as I feel something in the air change.

"I love you," she says. I don't register her words at first and when I do, it takes me a second to convince myself that I haven't just imagined them. Because I have imagined them—many times before today. I've dreamt of her telling me that. I open my mouth to respond, but she shuts her eyes tightly and begins speaking rapidly.

"I don't know when this happened, I don't know why this happened, but I know that it happened and I can't make it stop. I've tried—I've tried really hard, Teddy. And I know I've been a bitch lately and I'm sorry, but I couldn't respond to your letters as just a friend and admit that that was all we were ever going to be. I couldn't watch you with my family and have it shoved in my face that we're just friends." Her eyes open and it shocks me to see the passion there, the raw emotion in her eyes. "I know I'm not supposed to feel this way, but I don't know how to make it stop. And I just wanted you to know that. Just once."

I continue staring at her, waiting for her to say more until I realize that that was it. There's no but. She really is in love with me. I smile widely for what feels like the first time since she stopped talking to me. I can see her body physically relax and I lean back on the couch to alleviate the tension in my body. "I thought you fucking hated me!" I finally say, sitting up and staring at her once more. "I guess I misread those signs, huh?"

She doesn't seem to find any humor in the situation and instead stares at me as if she's scared to death. "Teddy," she prompts. Oh, right. She still needs an answer.

I turn so that I'm facing her and smile as we lock eyes. "I've got something to say to you too and you don't get to interrupt. I've been rehearsing this in my head for a very long time and I want to get it right." She just continues to stare at me and that gives me the strength to go on.

"I remember the day you were born. I told someone that once and they told me that it wasn't possible—that I was too young. But the thing is, Victoire, I remember it. I remember Harry taking me to see you in St. Mungo's and I remember him and your dad joking that we were going to get married one day.

"I don't know exactly when my feelings for you changed. All I know is that by age five, you were the only person in my life that I wanted to play "Aurors and Death Eaters" with. And when I left for school at eleven, I couldn't stop missing you. By age thirteen, though, I knew. I knew I was in love with you and eventually I just had to tell myself that it wasn't ever going away. I tried dating other people, but even that didn't help. And then you started dating other people and it literally felt like you were stabbing me in the heart. So yes, Victoire, I love you. I love you very, very much."

She stares at me in stunned silence, her body completely relaxing. A comfortable silence falls between us as she takes in what I have just said. "Teddy," she finally sighs, but no other words come out.

"I'm going to kiss you now," I say, knowing that I can't wait much longer regardless. I lean over to her and place my lips on hers. She melts into my touch and I pull her closer, tasting her for the first time in my life.

As the kiss deepens, I can't help but think that if Victoire had the ability to drive me mad before, it was going to be nothing compared to what she was going to be able to do now. As long as I have her in my life, however, I can live with this insanity. As long as I have her, going mad doesn't seem so terrible after all.

.:.:.:.:.

**A/N: This is a companion piece to "Happiness" written in Victoire's point of view. Review, please!**


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